In a Coffin
by SilverStainsSS
Summary: Forced out of prostitution because of Jack, Avery begins stealing for her keep. On her way to the market, she is raped. Unwilling to let her secret out, she stops her heartbeat. Later, she wakes up in a coffin. Little did she know the owner of the shop, has a secret of his own and both will try to uncover the secret the other is keeping before their own can be revealed.
1. 00: Prolgue

In a Coffin

Prologue

"Another prostitute murdered. Come get your paper here." A young boy with brown hair began shouting out. In his hand, is a crumpled package of paper and written in bold for everyone to see were the words, "Jack the Ripper strikes again."

This did nothing to reassure Avery. She had no choice but to quit being a lady of the night. An involuntary shudder ran up her spine. No one had a clue if Jack was striking only current prostitutes or if it was anyone who was a prostitute. So for now, Avery was alert about everything. She wasn't exactly the average woman but she had no idea who Jack was, so for now she was earning her money by stealing it. At least until Jack was caught.

 _How many had been killed now? Six, that makes six._ Avery thought as she stared at the paper at the boy's feet. She read over the details, only looking for one thing. The name. She was close friends with some others and she prayed none of them would be harmed.

Swallowing down a sob she wiped at a tear. Mary Jane Kelly. Mary was the most recent victim and one of Avery's closest friends. She tried to reread the paper, hoping she had read it wrong because of exhaustion or hunger but the black ink stayed in place spelling out a name she hoped she would never see there. Taking a step back, she turned and clenched the unclenched her fists, trying to calm herself. _If I EVER figure out who this bastard is, I will kill him._ She promised herself silently.

She began walking in the direction of the market she visited daily. There was where she stole. She hated it, but she had no choice. It was a bit of guilt against her life. And here she knew every twist and turn of the stalls, buildings, and alleys. For her, that was better then not knowing how to get around at all.

Avery's P.O.V…

I can't stop thinking about Mary. She did not deserve death. She was kind and friendly. Turning a corner, I continue to look down at my shoes. The sound of my heels clicking, echoing off the walls in the alleyway. The recent rain made everything wet. My shoes where soaked from stumbling into a puddle earlier. I trust my feet to take me where I need to go. The market is not too far from where I am now. Only about 4 minutes. I want to get this over with. I hated stealing. I hate it so much, but it is how I get food and clothing. I did make a living off of my beauty in prostitution. That was until Jack the Ripper became a threat for me.

I am so deep in my thoughts I don't even notice I am being followed until a hand grabs my hair and clamps my mouth shut. I try to scream but I know it is no use. All the sound being made is a long muffled mmmm. Quickly, my body throws its guards up.

"You're a pretty one, darling." My assaulter has a deep voice. I can smell alcohol heavy on his breath. I try to calm myself in hopes of getting an idea. I must not let my gift show. I must stay calm. If I am exposed I am dead for sure. I must stop struggling. Maybe then I will be only hurt a little.

I can't calm though. His hand is blocking off my breathing. My head feels fuzzy and my arms reach up to try and pry his off my face. I can't breathe! Water feels my eyes and my lungs begin screaming for air. Dear god no. Please don't let me die. I think I might have to expose my gift. I don't want to die here.

As if god heard my prayer the man holding me shifts ever so slightly so I can breathe again while not having to reveal what I was. I take several deep breaths and calm my heart rate. I stop struggling because it would only bring me more hurt. I have dealt with people like this before many times. The difference was I had no need to hide my nature, besides most of the ones before were drunk but not forceful to this extent. The grip around my mouth releases my face.

"Please sir. I only ask you that you let me go. Please. I won't tell anyone." He just snickers and snakes his hand around my waist. I want nothing more but to rip it off but I still and let him.

"Now why would I do that? I want you to be a good girl and take your clothes off." I shudder but know it is my only option other then possibly being round up and killed. I bend down and undo the laces on my shoes, then undo the buttons running down the spine of my dress. I remove everything but my panties and bra. The cold air bites at my pale skin. "Please. I don't want this." I try once more to reason with him but to no avail.

He turns me around, holding me tightly against his chest. He thrusts his hand down to cup my sex. I silently cry while he moves my panties to the side and inserts one then two of his fingers. I close my eyes and wish over and over for this to end. But it doesn't. It just gets worse. I wait while he restrains my wrists and pulls his manhood out. I bite my lip to the point of it bleeding when he enters me. It was painful. I am used to the feeling physically, but it hurts so badly. Like fire. I just try to stay quiet. Even if someone were to hear and come, hey would believe the man over me. That is just how things work. The guy has higher social status then a woman usually and I don't really have to best of lifes. I am a lady of the night, a prostitute. Plus I am now a thief. No one would care.

After an eternity of pain he finally stops. He pulls out and pushes me to the ground. I probably would have not been able to stand any way.

"Get your ass dressed, bitch." He spits at me. I take note he has become more aggressive. I don't want to make him mad. I find my mud caked dress and slip it back on with a bit of effort.

Once I am dressed again he pulls me from the ground by my black hair. I gasp in pain. He only chuckles and pulls my face up to meet his. "I can't let you go around telling anyone about me so say goodnight bitch."

With that he pulls out a knife and thrusts it into my side. At first the blade feels odd then my eyes widen at the pain. I scream. SIlver! It's a silver knife and it is agony. Today is the day I die. I am going to die! No, I can't die. I am not going to die! Its just today isn't my day.

He forces me to the ground and kicks my torso again and again. I become more desperate for air with every blow. Without thinking I stop my heartbeat. It is a gift I have. One I am grateful for in this moment. He smiles down on me.

"That's what you get, bitch." He turns and walks away. I can't help the smile playing on my lips. Why should I deserve such a thing? I sigh barely and close my eyes. At least it is over now. I can just sleep now. If I can't I will try and recover. After all I always have.


	2. 01: Best Fright in Centuries

In a Coffin

Chapter One: Best Fright in Centuries

 _I wander through the streets of London. The occasional lamp post glows near the cobblestone streets. Houses and shops line the roads. The rain is beating heavily on the cloak I am holding above my head. I can feel it soaking through the fabric. I am looking for someone. Anyone. I move my gaze to a head of me and not the cobblestone below my feet._

 _A girl is barely visible through the downpour. She looks sad. Her hand goes to pluck a black rose from the road. How odd, a single black rose, growing in between the cracks in the stone. Before she gets there the petals wither and it dies._

 _"It will grow back." I try and turn the situation around. The whole thing giving off a eery feel. She is startled and turns to me. A wide expression decorates her features. Bright blue eyes stare wide eyed at me._

 _"Who are you?" I need to know her name. I have never seen her before and wonder why she is alone in the rain with no way to shield it from beating down on her shoulders and black hair. All I know is I need to know her name._

 _"Who are you?" She stuns me with the response. I can only stare at her. I don't know. I don't know who I am._

 _"I am sorry. I don't know." I apologize turning towards her then turning back and dashing away._

XxxxXxxxXxxxXxxxX

Slowly I wake. My head feels like someone bashed it in with a hammer. Where am I? I blink open my eyes but all I can see is black. Am I blind? I squash down the growing panic and breathe. No, I am not blind, I simply am in a dark space. The slight ache in my eyes hint that even if I were in a lit area, my vision would be blurry. Stopping your heart for too long of a period is not the healthiest thing for your head. I silently curse myself. And I knew about the risks too.

I take a moment to gather and place my thoughts together, going over the basic questions, what's my name, how old am I, what was I doing before I got here, etc. My brain goes over my encounter with that man. At this thought I shiver, and I also remember my strange run in with that girl. I bite the inside of my lip in confusion and thought. The man doesn't confuse me at all. He raped me, simple, but the girl…

Slowly my brain reboots and pushes memories in my head. Mary, she's dead. Jack the Ripper is, what I am guessing, still at large. That is why I was stealing. The air feels stifling, so I force myself to will my heart to beat again, and it does. In a steady lazy beat. After a moment, I suck in a generous amount of air, gasping and burning. It takes a few breaths for me to put together that I am either supposed to be dead or I am supposed to be in an alley on the stone.

Reaching out, my hands brush against a hard, solid surface. Wood more then likely. Feeling around my sides in the little amount of space I have, I conclude that I must be confined in some sort of oddly shaped box. An oddly shaped box, made of wood. Panic rips at my throat and I begin to loose the air in my lungs. Someone must have found me...SOMEONE MUST HAVE FOUND ME, WITHOUT A PULSE IN AN ALLEY...they would think me completely dead. I push against the wood in front of me. Panic threatens to drive me mad. I can't be buried alive, I can't be! Please no!

I close my eyes and rely on my hearing to tell me if anyone is near me. It's a long shot. I could be under six feet of dirt by now. I pick up a low shuffle and water being splashed around. My breath rushes out in pure relief. Thank god.

A voice is barely auditable. So I am not able to make out the words. Then everything is silent. "Sorry m'dear. Here I will clean that up. I do apologize." I hear the voice clearly now and I can tell it has moved closer and it is male, causing a rush of fear to bolt up my spine. Going from being paranoid over a serial killer, to getting raped, then being on the brink of death, to thinking I was burried alive, and now to being in most likely a coffin with a psycho right on the other side of the door. Yeah, this just isn't my day. What if it's Jack on the other side? I clench my fists and unclench them with each breath. II can't jump to conclusions.

Then I hear the sound of fabric shifting. I freeze unable to move. The person on the outside of the box is right in front of me. I muster up all of my courage and get an idea. A stupid stupid Stupid idea.

"HELP!" I yell. At the sound of a small yelp and what I assume is a large stack of books hit the ground, I laugh. I can't help but laugh. I startled the poor guy. That was hilarious. I wipe away some tears and gasp for air. Oh god, that was awesome. I quickly shut up though. I remember he can easily kill me. Oh god, I should not have done that.

Dead for sure, that's me, if that was Jack I could possibly be killed in the next few minutes. Or he could cut out my eyes or cut my fingers off or any manner of horrid torture. Why?! Why am I so stupid? Why now, when my life is on the line? Mentally I groan and curse myself again. Good going me. Good going. You have no chance to escape now. Great.

I hit my head on the wood and sigh. Oh well, I have lived long enough. I lived a good life except for the end of it and I had a good laugh.

I wait in silence for my death to come.

 _Undertakers Point of view…_

I look over the body in front of me. She is once more beautiful. I turn and wash my hands off in the pre filled basin. Spotting a bit of lipstick out of place on her lips and mentally kick myself for getting something so simple wrong.

"Sorry m'dear. Here I will clean that up. I do apologize." I pull a rag out of my robe and wipe it to perfection. Making sure it lines up with her lip line. I pick my guest up and lay her down in the coffin I prepared for her. Her family isn't the poorest but they are not the richest either and since I only use the queen's coin to purchase supplies, I only charged them for the dress and coffin.

"HELP!" I yelp and topple over a stack of anatomy books laying on the floor. My heart pounding rapidly for being startled so heavenly. I summon my scythe into my hand and get up in a blink of an eye, instantly in a defensive position. A grin begins bleeding onto my face, that was the best freight I have had in centuries. I am surprised to see that laughter follows and am even more surprised that it came from a coffin standing against the wall in front of me.

It stops suddenly and abruptly. I notice I must have prepared a live guest. I rush over. Sympathy fills my heart for doing such a thing. I rip the lid off the coffin and dismiss my scythe while I do.

 _Avery's Point of View…_

I hear a hand hit the side of the box and I shrink back when I notice the lid being ripped off. Oh no. I hold my breath expecting to be killed or at least hurt. After a moment of complete silence I removed my hands from blocking my face. The man must have wanted to help me out not hurt me. Right? I open my eyes to a unique sight.

In front of me is a male. He is about my height but his back is hunched over. So, I know he is taller than me. He has silver hair down to the back of his knees, with a small braid down the right side of his torso. He is wearing a worn top hat, which has a piece of fabric hanging down his back. From his neck to the floor he is covered in an overly large black robe, the sleeves hanging down past his hands. Maybe he's even wearing multiple on top of eachother.

Plastered on his pale face is an impressive smile giving off a grin the Cheshire cat would applaud. I can't see the top part of his face because silver bangs cover it. The complete look makes me want to hug him. However I also don't want to upset him. Who knows what he'll do.

He tilts his head to the side. "I am terribly sorry, m'dear. I can't even begin to apologize that I have laid my hands on a fair lady like yourself while you were unconscious. I misunderstood you for one of me guests, I have. Again my deepest apologies. Do allow me to help you out and return you to wherever it is you need to be." He does not seem to be a threat but I am still confused about where I am and who his guests may be as there is no one else in the dark room but a beautiful young woman on the table. I gasp when the face clicks in my brain. The woman on the table is Mary Jane Kelly. I put piece and piece together. This man is Jack and I am his next victim.


	3. 02: Puppy Snacks

In a Coffin

Bonjour, my dearies! I apologize for the wait. I like to update this story at least once a month but class and climbing have been worming into my time and eating it up. If you have any questions, comments or concerns please review or PM me to have them addressed. Thanks a to for the support. It really helps!

Chapter 02: Puppy Snacks

Stomach acids rise and tease the back of my throat before falling back down and doing it again. _Stupid insides, make up your mind, puke or not puke..._ The usually busy thoughts in my head are wiped over with blank paint and my brain sits to register everything in complete shock and hysterics. Rapists, I could deal with those, thieves, I could deal with those, this monster...trying and failing to deal with.

He _kills prostitutes (ladies of the night for a less harsh word)_ for sport. Entertainment. I saw the pictures in the paper. This thing cut people like me, well not exactly like me, but women, people I knew and cared for, and painted the whole god damn area with the crimson liquid under their skin. And now, here I am being stupid and just stopping here in front of him staring at a very drained body. My brain blankly sends panic signals to my feet but they decide to not listen and just stay firmly on floor. And this guy, thing, the ripper is standing right behind me like a gentleman. He must be a victim of some sort of incurable mental disease.

Eternity fills the seconds I look at the body on the table. _Oh Mary...what has he done to you?_ I feel a blind spark of pure rage fill my eyes and frustration tears spill over my cheeks. After all I have been through… _That bastard_! I stand with the back of the wooden box flat against my back, bringing my eyes away from the body and down to look at my own. The dress I was wearing is no longer there. It instead is a back dress. My hair is washed and my shoes are now a black pair of flats. I laugh because of how well looking I am. I place the setting together to match that of a funeral parlor. _How convenient, he is going to die in a place that after death he would be sent to anyways. Ha! I guess the world has its own kind of humor._

I turn and take deep breath, feeling the air enter and leave my lungs. "Er..I am terribly sorry dearie, I have mistaken you for one of me dead guests, I did." The man starts up. I blink in confusion. Wait what? Why isn't he laughing maniacally and trying to shred my flesh into small itty bitty pieces? The confusion stops my brain in it tracks and steals all of my thought process. I steal a small peek at the man who has killed several women and torn them open.

He is not smiling but rather looks sad. Why would he look sad? I am the one who is going to die! God he is creepier then I thought. I consider the man and place a wicked grin on my face. If I am going to die I want to play with him just a little. "I would like you tickle me if possible, sir?" I keep the humor out of my voice and make sure my face looks deadpan. I think his eyes widen but can't be at all sure because of the long silver bangs in the way.

I let laughter claim me when the only thing he shows is pure confusion. He pulls his sleeves down from over his hands. Underneath, pale hands with talon like black nails show themselves. I briefly wonder how someone could possibly live with nails like that. He must have great difficulty doing anything.

He walks forward and holds his hands at my sides, I am guessing waiting for permission. This gesture is confusing. He is actually going to tickle me. What is even creepier is that he wants MY permission. I eye his every move and cautiously nod. He extends his hands so I can feel them on my sides and he assaults me with a bomb of tickles. I laugh until I can't feel air in my lungs.

"Okay stop." I gasp out through my fight for oxygen. Tears line my eyes and when I stop laughing my head hurts terribly. With utter shock Jack removes his hands per my request. I am so lost. Serial killer, tickling me, and stopping when asked? Maybe this is his tactic. Maybe he makes his victims trust him and then when they try and leave he kills them. _Stop being ridiculous!_ I chide myself. That can't be right. People are simple. They are predictable. They might be good at hiding but they are predictable when it comes to their behavior patterns.

"What are going to do to me?" The question slips over my lips like liquid lead, heavy and distasteful. If I am going to die I want to know how. He freezes and simply looks confused. "What do you mean m'dear?" His question catches me off guard. "I mean since you are going to kill me, what are you going to do? I wish to not drown or burn but other than that I think I am fine." _Hopefully the afterlife isn't anything like what I imagine, that would be bad._ I mumble in my head. _Very bad._

Seconds tick by as I _feel_ his stare on me. Or maybe it is just my brain making up stuff because it doesn't know how to accept we are going to die. The feeling makes my skin crawl and sends a cold hand down my throat. I swallow and begin bouncing on the balls of my feet. _Is he looking at me or am I just imagining it? Stupid overly grown bangs. How does he even see?!_

Then life is back at it again with the surprises and the damn man falls over clutching his stomach in hysterical laughter of all things! Hysterical laughter...LAUGHTER. From the other side of a door next to me, I didn't notice it before, I really have to learn to notice things like that, I hear a muffled thud, most likely a heavy something falling to the floor. The man on the floor doubling over from laughter, undoubtedly shook the whole place. I wouldn't be surprised if anyone in a block radius heard the cackling coming from Jack. I let out a soft and startled gasp when a creak breaks my thoughts and barely have time to register the box... _my box...my coffin..._ that so doesn't sound right, before the large wooden thing swallows me and pulls me to the ground under its weight. Once again confined in its insides, I let out an annoyed growl. I have half the mind to punch the thing and order it off of me before I realize it being inanimate and all. The wood floor hugs my back uncomfortably. Stupid box, how dare it fall on top of me. _No actually, stupid luck, the coffin could have fell any direction and it just had to fall forward onto me._

I huff again and cross my arms. The laughter outside of the wretched box quiets down and eventually comes out in a short hiccup and stops. I can hear the light shuffle of fabric and heavy thuds of well made boots, hit the floor. Each step bringing the cause of me once again finding myself in a literal death bed, closer to the coffin. With the very real possibility I could die standing on the other side of the thing wood and lining, my vision goes red. _What did I do to deserve death? I would really like an answer because all I did was exist!_ I mentally screech. Tough life, huh? Never fair, never nice, and certainly never making sense.

The black claws hook under the edge of my wooden cage. The sudden want to smash them and break them flashes across my mind. I raise my fist as much as I can in the close quarters, which isn't very much, but fi my experience with long nails had anything to say, then sending my hand don on those black weapons would hurt like a bitch. I smirk and prepare to force my fist down onto his nails. Before I can take my next breath, the fingers flex and raise the coffin off me, blinding me momentarily by showing me light that isn't almost pitch black. I hiss and instead block the light from my eyes with my clenched hand. I blink a few times and allow my vision to clear itself of stars ( _I don't even know why they say seeing stars, the little balls of magic and concerning light that spread across your vision, most certainly do not look like stars!)._

 _Stupid bright evil light._ I glare a bit and take a glance at the hand being offered to me from the ripper. The log black nails I still believe are ridiculous, shine under the lantern light. I silently curse the dim glow for making him look more attractive. _Really, Ave? Really? Attractive, yeah the perfect thing to be thinking about when you are about to be dissected!_ I chide myself and accompany the thought with a mental facepalm. "I am so sorry m'dear but you see I am not going to kill you. I know that seeing one of my guests in front of you after waking up in one of my coffins may be unsettling but I assure you I did not end her life. You see I am Undertaker. I care for the dead. I don't create them." My jaw drops and I stare at the man with shock. Does he really think I will believe him? _I mean it is a funeral parlor..._ I growl and ruffle my hair. It makes sense and lines up but the idea that the ripper is still out there and I can't do a damn thing about it, grates at my nerves. It sends rage through my cells and I huff again. My life makes no sense. I have officially decided it just doesn't make sense. The light warning signs of a migraine invades my body and I let out a small groan, taking the still outstretched hand and pulling myself up.

"So let me repeat what you just said, just so I can get over my utter shock." I start and turn my back to the man. I place my finger and thumb to my nose and rub the bridge willing my emotions to calm themselves. I turn back around and frown when I see the man...the undertaker...crisscrossing his fingers together in front of him with a big smile plastered across his face. _Stupid white smile, making him look all charming and crap…_ I inwardly growl. He responds with a nod and small cluster of giggles. I am so damn confused. More now then when I woke up in the coffin...still processing that…

He explained everything, it makes sense, but am I safe here? Where even is here? "Uh...okay you said you are an undertaker, not Jack the Ripper, and that's your excuse for having a dead woman on a table?" It was more of a statement then a question. He nods and motions to continue. "And why, exactly, was I in a coffin?" I initial shock leaving me and just accepting it. His turn to freeze, and maybe raise an eyebrow. I can't tell. The bangs, begging me to brush them aside and see what they hide. But I don't. That would be weird, plus if he wanted people seeing what's under that silver curtain he wouldn't have it to begin with. Still doesn't stop my curiosity though. "Well, I got a message that there was a body needing to be picked up from an ally. Me being an undertaker, of course went to go get it. I didn't feel a pulse when I checked for one and you looked the part of being dead, pardon me. And so I dolled you up and got you fitted for a coffin. I was having difficulty finding anyone who would claim your body though. No one came forth to give you your identity." He sort of tailed off. I scoff. Of course he wouldn't find anyone who would give my dead body a name and past. I don't have anyone. My family is all dead or I don't know about them. And friends...what the hell are those? Only ever had one, and she is currently an urn of ashes.

"Where am I?" I ask, then mentally facepalm once again. I am in a funeral parlor. Duh…"My shop." He simply replies not seeming to notice how stupid the question sounded. I take a breath. 'I meant in London." I clarify. He forms a O with his lips and the smile bleeds back into his face. He chuckles again. "Just a few minute walk from the East market and down the street from the East port." He says with small hiccups of laughter. _The East End...hm, not far from where I was attacked...but it is a dangerous place._ I remind myself to be cautious on this side of town. Between the Italian Mafia basing their drug stocks and trades around here and the large amounts of thieves, rapists, and homeless, one has to be careful and always look over their shoulder. On top of that if you live down here, you have to know how to defend yourself. I mean I know how to but it could me being burned alive if churches and authorities caught wind of my methods.

I take another moment to look the man over again. "Thank you...um...Undertaker...sir." I struggle with deciding whether or not that was polite and taste the title on my lips and tongue. It is odd, but it fits this man. I am sure everyone that knows him, knows that he is something different. A piece of abstract art, if you will. And abstract art deserves an abstract name. I have a feeling something like Tom or Charles would just sound wrong for him. The thought crunches up my body in a full fledged cringe. I don't care what people say, Undertaker is the perfect name for him.

Undertaker just smiles wider, something that seems impossible and pull and small brown thing from one of his robe folds. I take a better look at it. A dog treat. The prospect of a pet lightens my mood. Having a pet is always a good sign. But before I can glance around for the animal, I watch Undertaker take the treat between his fingers and place it in his mouth before chewing it , making a loud crunch, and swallowing.

I gape at him. Did he just eat a dog treat? Where did I put that list of mental facilities again? He reaches back into his robes and pulls out a second treat, outstretching his arm and offering the brown biscuit to me. Shamelessly my stomach growls and a faint blush dusts my face. I take the small treat from his fingers and look at it nervously. First time for everything right? I gulp and tentatively place it against my lips. I swallow again and bite off a small chunk. It surprisingly falls apart in my mouth and tastes like vanilla icecream. I hum in pleasure and eager consume the rest of the little delicacy. Who knew dog treats tasted this good? I wonder in awe. The flavor leave me pleased and wanting more.


	4. 03: Avery

In A Coffin

Chapter 03: Avery

Minutes ticked by, several awkward minutes. With someone just staring at you behind thick bangs, minutes felt like hours. It wasn't creepy. Well, yeah sort of, but not entirely creepy. If anything the only thing it was, was awkward. So like any sane person I tried to act unbothered and busied myself with pondering my thoughts and fidgeting with anything my hands could get themselves on. My hair and the hem of my dress were subjected to the actions of my fingers and I bit the insides of my cheeks and lip to ease some of my oncoming anxiety away.

As I combed through my hair, the strands felt soft and for once they laid properly in place around my shoulders. The ends, while a bit shorter then I remember, seemed perfectly groomed. A slight smile graces my lips. The man seemed awfully good at his job. He really did pay attention to the small details, cared. Clean most importantly.

The how I had gotten here, busied my mind for a brief second. It didn't take long for me to put it together. Morticians deal with the dead. I didn't have a pulse so of course, I was dead. Anyone who had touched me would have brought me here. I must have been out longer than I originally thought to have been cleaned, had my hair cut, dressed, and nailed into the coffin. That could have ended badly in so many different ways. Sighing I looked at the silver haired man. I crack first and clear my throat.

"So….uh...where exactly am I?" I speak roughly and with a dry throat. A faint twitch in my hand reflects how badly I want to facepalm. Where am I? Hm, I couldn't have been more broad then that? My face turns slowly into a scold like expression, I know exactly where I am, in a funeral parlor. Well...I guess it depends on how you look at it. I do need to figure where in London I am. And once I get out of here, I can find my way back to the market by myself. He is probably going to kick me out anyways. Hopefully nicely and with a bit of instructions.

"M'dear, your name is Avery, yes?"

I look at his face and blink, debating whether or not to tell the truth. If he is an honest man, I don't have an issue telling him. However, if he is not, a false name would benefit me. I could give him my night name. Shia…

I settle on telling him the truth. I had always been impulsive when it came to deciding what information to give to strangers. My head gives a slight nod and I purse my lips. "Yes." I verbally confirm it. My throat feels dry and stale. How he knew my name is beyond me.

I observe the small tilt in his head, the edges of his bangs brushing over his cheeks. A black nail pokes his cheek, at the edge of his smile and it widens.

"It is late and would hate myself if I let a maiden such as yourself go wandering about at night. Not to mention you had been attacked. Would you like to stay for the night my dear? I can give you my bed seeing as I don't use the thing." The proposal takes me aback for a brief moment and every nerve in my body goes off in red. Then, after a moment of rational thinking I nod again. If he wanted to hurt me he would have. He seems nice enough and thinking about being lost in London at this hour, going by his statement of it being late, doesn't sound very pleasing. I swallow down some anxiety and take a breath. I hope I don't regret this.

"That is awfully nice. You don't have to do that." I smile and state. It really was a nice offer. There aren't too many people I have met that are that nice. Most don't even stop and look twice at a dead woman in an alley. My lips form a small pout and I think about it. Humans really are cruel.

"Ah no. I insist." I swallow again and accept the offer. It is once in a lifetime deal here in London. "If it would be of no inconvenience then yes I would. Thank you so much, Sir."

"Oh my dearie, don't be so formal. I go by Undertaker so that is what I would like to be addressed by." He chuckles and motions for me to follow him out of the room. His long silver hair swishing over his black robes as he turns his back to me. I try not to sigh too loud with relief. Thank god I can drop the formalities. I am never good at them anyways. I don't see the point in a name if everyone just calls you sir or ma'am anyways. As we are walking out he abruptly stops causing me to almost crash into him. I suck in a quick breath and step slightly to the side to avoid contact with his shoulder and I almost lose balance. A strand of my hair falls into my line of vision and I blow it out of my eyelash. What the hell? I thank god for my reflexes.

I glance over his shoulder and see that the front of the shop is exactly like the room we were just in. There is dust and coffins everywhere and it is very dark. Cobwebs litter everything and stacks of books cover most of the floor that wooden coffins don't. The only difference being that there is not a table with a body on it. The windows are very dirty and I doubt that anyone could see through them. They are practically black with grime and dirt. I graze my vision over the room and spot the treason for Undertaker's stop. The front door is wide open and outside rain is heavily pouring. The dull pitter patter of rainfall tap against the stone outside and the windows, confirming the dirt is inside the windows and not out. I make a sour face. I don't really like messes. Some would even say I hate messes.

The mortician walks over to the open door, his robes making it seem more like he glides. It sort of amazes me they don't get caught on anything or pick up any dirt. If he took a step of his path he would have grey robes and not black. His pale hands grip the door and guide it shut. The lock and latch clicking shut quietly. His fingers grip his chin in thought and a bad feeling runs up my spine. That door must have not been open on purpose and it sure as hell must have not been open to the man's knowledge.

My eyes take a quick dart from wall to wall in the room. "That's strange I swear I closed it before seeing to Mary." His colorless lips dip into a slight frown and from where I am standing it seems grim. His bangs block my view of his eyes but slight tilts in his hair show he is also looking around for an intruder most likely. Though I have no idea why they would choose here of all places to break into. It is after all a house of the dead. I take a swift breath and unclench my hands. It was probably just the wind or something.

Undertakers Point of View…

Flash Back…

I pull the brush evenly through Mary's hair. She has to look perfect for the young earl. Her lips are still painted with the red Jack put on her. I giggle to myself.

He does not even know that I am a reaper and a powerful one at that. At least Grell gave me enough laughter to not tell the young earl and the butler "Bassy" as he liked to put it. With the young earl serving the queen and Grell in his acting role, I have had enough time to read and shop for supplies I need. The only guests I have been receiving lately are from the same person. Grell and the lovely madam. To be honest I never thought him to look as he did in his human form. When I figured out who he was I caught him alone and told him I knew that he was killing the young women. For whatever reason, he begged me not to tell Ciell. I expected him to threaten to hack me to pieces or try and attack me but I guess he has his own reasons for not doing so. I soured at the thought of the queen. She just sits around and does nothing while that angel of hers and everyone else does everything. It is almost sickening. But it is amusing that the young earl blindly follows her when she is going to burn lovely London to ashes. I blink at the body on the table. Hm...I think far too much and deeply.

On top of that Mais has not been around for a few days. She usually comes by after reaps and stops for tea. I certainly hope she is okay. I feel a slight twitch in my lips. Perhaps William has her busy nowadays. If she were on the Ripper Case she certainly would have stopped by in the past week. Worst case scenerio, William transfered her to a different branch. I would like to think she would tell me though.

I come back to the world of reality after the bell above the door in the other room alerts me of a new guest. I happily sneak through the shadows and stop right behind a tall middle aged man. His blonde hair pulled back and hat in his hands. This should be good.

I muster together an eerie chuckle and continue to laugh at the man's reaction. He must have jumped at least two feet in the air.

"May I help you young man." I put a twisted smile on. I can feel a bit of drool peeking at the corners of my mouth. "Yes. Scotland Yard has found a body of a young woman in an ally and needs her removed." He turns to face me, a dust of pink over his cheeks from embarrassment. I assume he is from the yard because of the sternness that returns to his face. They never really are fun for long. I scramble around to find a coat and head out to find the body, not bothering to cast a look behind me. More guests is always a good thing.

"Ah...uh Sir? Do you know where to go?" I turn to face him and smile.

"No but I will find her." And with that I rush into a dark area beside the building across from mine and hop onto the rooftops, sure that the man did not see. Years of practice does wonders for sneaking around.

It does not take me long to pick up the familiar scent of death in the air. Though, it is not normal death. It still has a soul. The spicy scent of demons is heavy but thins out the farther I move away from the port. It makes sense. Weak demons like to hunt easy prey. The East End is perfect for killing. People don't question it there. The woman must have died in the east end but far enough away from the port to discourage most demons from fetching her soul. Near Jacks killing sights but not a victim as Sutcliff's wonderful scythe would have reaped her soul. This was a human killing another human.

My boots click over roof tiles and I avoid being spotted by people buzzing around in the streets below. To my left the scent hits me in a wave and I land gracefully beside the body of a young woman. Her grey hair is beautiful but messy and all over the place. Her clothes are completely ruined with crimson and mud. Such beauty. Almost as if she were sleeping. I place a cloaking trance around us. A forgotten magic by modern reapers. I sit down and check for a flaw in the soul to see if it was torn already or if it was a false soul. The soul was intact and flawless but something was off. I bite the inside of my cheek and try to pinpoint what exactly.

I uncloak my body and hers and wait for a reaper to show. That ass William will more than likely scold the reaper due to being so late to this soul. As of what I know, he is strict and hates paperwork. I pull a notebook out and a quill and ink cartridge. Sketching out every detail of her face and body. Might as well do something as I wait.

At around 3 hours later I complete the piece and doubt that a reaper is coming. I will prepare her ever the less. When the reaper comes to collect the maiden she will be in my shop and I will be sure to scold them as well. Such laziness no matter the excuse is terrible and makes me want to shout.

I carefully pick up the woman and search for some form of id. In the small hem of the torn underskirt I find a name embedded into the cloth. Avery Simmons. I love it. I will make sure to carve it beautifully into the coffin I will prepare for her.

Efficiently I find my way back to my shop and find it empty. Not surprising. No one ever stays after I have left. A slight giggle emits from my mouth. Humans are strange.

I take Avery or what I assume is Avery to the preparation room. Mary is still on the table where I left her. I giggle, of course she is. She is the last victim from the delightful reaper Grell Sutcliff. I place Mary into an open coffin on the floor and in her place I put Avery. I clean her and apply very little makeup because she is beautiful on her own. I pick her a lavender dress. It will match with her hair. The hair that reminds me of warm tea. I finish her up and gently place her in the coffin I want to match her. She is stunning. I place the lid in its place and bolt it shut. I once more retrieve Mary and resume applying makeup to her bruised face.

I think I am finished until I spot a smudge of lipstick out of place.

End of Flashback…


End file.
